


camping

by hellsteeth



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, emily lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsteeth/pseuds/hellsteeth
Summary: When they’d first planned this trip, Scully had assumed that Emily had some experience outside, whether it was camping or swimming or even toddling around wet grass. But as the "what’s that responses" from her daughter increased with every detail of their upcoming camping trip, she remembered that Emily had indeed been a very sick little girl all her life, confined to houses and hospitals. The thought had made her throat constrict, but now she doubles down on the fun they’re going to have, leaving no stone unturned. No outdoorsy experience will be left un-enjoyed after this weekend.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	camping

Scully’s hands are thorough but gentle as they rub sunscreen into Emily’s round cheeks. _Scully the Younger_ scrunches up her face in response, eyes crinkling.

“I know, baby,” Scully mutters sympathetically as she holds the girl’s bangs off her forehead. “But trust me, if you’re anything like me, you do _not_ want to risk getting sunburned.” She swallows uncomfortably at the implication that the similarity between mother and daughter is still unknown, which is true. They’re still learning each other, discovering the little habits and features that they share. After a beat, Scully drops the bangs and points to her own cheeks. “See these freckles?”

Emily reaches out, chubby fingers poking the spots with timid curiosity.

“Uh huh.”

“I got these from spending too much time in the sun when I was a kid, playing in the woods with my brothers or out on a boat with my daddy. The sunburn left them on my face.”

“They’re pretty,” Emily counters, touching one after the other as if trying to connect stars into constellations. Scully’s heart swells and she taps the tip of her daughter’s nose, making her smile.

“Thanks, sweetie. I still don’t want you to get burned, though. It’s not very fun.” Emily nods and Scully puts the finishing touches on her daughter’s sunscreen before standing and tending to her own fair skin.

When they’d first planned this trip, Scully had assumed that Emily had at least some experience outside, whether it was camping or swimming or even toddling around wet grass. But as the _what’s that_ responses from her daughter increased with every detail of their upcoming camping trip, she remembered that Emily had indeed been a very sick little girl all her life, confined to houses and hospitals. The thought had made her throat constrict, but now she doubles down on the fun they’re going to have, leaving no stone unturned. No outdoorsy experience will be left un-enjoyed after this weekend.

Mulder, standing by with the bottle of sunscreen in hand, makes sure to cover the spot on Scully’s neck that she always misses, the spot smack dab over the little pink line left there from last year. His finger toys with the tiny ponytail she’s coaxed her hair into, making her giggle. At the sound, Emily looks up toward Mulder the way an adult might glance up the side of a skyscraper. Her eyes squint in the sunlight.

“Does she have sunglasses, Scully?”

Scully pats the pockets of her big fishing vest (her father’s at one point, apparently) and sighs.

“I must have left them in the car. Give me just a minute.” She starts toward their car but Mulder stops her with a light hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He plops his own baseball cap down onto Emily’s shiny hair. She grins and waves her arms out in front of her blindly as it falls over her eyes, the NICAP logo bigger than her forehead. Scully mouths thank you to him before squatting down to tighten it to the size of Emily’s small head.

“What do you say?” she prompts.

“Thanks, Mulder.” Emily smiles.

Mulder pats her on the head. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

He watches Scully hoist her tacklebox off the ground and tuck her fishing rods (one adult-sized and a smaller one that’s sparkly purple) under her armpit before taking Emily’s hand and starting toward the stream near their little camp.

The muscles in Mulder’s back and biceps strain as he chops wood for a fire, the axe falling again and again and splitting logs into chunks. Wood cracks and splinters, and there’s a comfort about the simple repetition of it all. Over the noise, he can hear Scully’s low, patient voice explaining how to properly hook bait. The smaller Scully leans closer, big eyes curious as her mother’s nimble fingers twist the worm this way and that way until it’s secure on the hook. She guides Emily’s finger, letting her feel the slimy bait and keeping her safe from sticking herself. The girl laughs, her mother’s strong stomach and intrigue for all things icky running through her veins. 

He considers joining them once the campfire is built, but decides to keep his distance, not wanting to disturb the fun. Plus, his own father had always been more concerned with matters at the State Department than he had with teaching his children to fish, so he would be a little out of his depth anyways. Instead, he settles himself in a chair next to the fire and takes out the disposable camera he’d bought on the drive up. After steadying his hand and making sure that the lighting is _just right_ , Mulder snaps a picture of Scully and Emily, standing side by side and looking out onto the water. Satisfied, he pulls a bag of sunflower seeds out of his pocket and alternates between watching the fire and watching Scully and Emily.

With childhood attention spans and travel fatigue to consider, Scully and Emily return from the stream during the mid-afternoon, two trout in hand. Mulder meets them halfway and grins at them both before looking between the fish and Scully quizzically.

“For dinner,” she says by way of an explanation.

“Oh,” he replies awkwardly. “Of course. Did you have fun, Emily?”

The young girl nods and wipes her grimy hands on her t-shirt, making both adults wince. “Yeah! I learned how to cast and Dana helped me reel in a fish and then I got to pee in the woods!”

Mulder laughs and picks her up easily. Emily’s happy shriek scares a few nearby birds away as he hoists her onto his shoulders. “Sounds like you two had a great time!”

Emily holds onto fistfuls of Mulder’s hair as if she’s trying to steer him on the short walk back to their camp, but he can feel her start to lurch forward and succumb to sleep as they finally reach the tent. Slowly, carefully, he kneels next to her sleeping bag and lowers her down. It’s too hot to cover her with a blanket, so he settles for removing the cap from her head and sweeping her hair away from her sweaty face before leaving her to nap. It’s shocking that she’s gone this long today without falling asleep. Although Emily’s anemia had allowed her to back away from death’s door, it still sticks to her and pulls her down like molasses, tiring her easily.

Scully has shed her vest and is cleaning the fish when he finally ducks out of the tent. Despite her best efforts, the bridge of her nose is pink. Mulder grimaces sympathetically as he watches the clever movements of her knife slicing scales and removing bone. Strangely, he almost expects the scent of formaldehyde to permeate the forest.

“Is she down?” Scully asks, looking up momentarily before going back to the poor fish. 

“Uh huh,” He stands behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, nuzzling her hair. Luckily, Scully’s hand does not slip and instead tosses one of the cleaned fish into a skillet. “Wow, you’re such a provider.” He whispers in her ear flirtatiously.

Scully smirks and leans back against him, taking a moment to close her eyes. “You know it, baby.”

“And if you’re the one bringing home the fish, then that makes me…”

Scully turns and kisses him sweetly. “The one who looks pretty and puts my baby down for a nap.” She tastes warm and lovely, like sunscreen and iced tea. Mulder’s tongue nips out just long enough to taste the pink of her lips before they both pull away lazily. There’s still work to do.

The fish sizzle in the skillet, filling the surrounding area with the mouthwatering smell of dinner. It must reach into the tent too, because sooner or later Emily emerges, rubbing at her eyes sleepily and asking for food. Her hair sticks up every which way as her mother’s has been known to do after a night of sound sleep. 

In no time at all, the fish are gone and their bellies are full. Marshmallows and chocolate make an appearance as the sun sets, and Mulder does his best to adhere to Scully’s _no giving my kid nightmares with ghost and/or monster stories_ rule by telling her a watered-down version of the Big Blue story. Scully seems to approve of his choice, smiling at him and interjecting with little jokes to make Emily laugh.

Scully has been saving up reserves of love for years, almost bursting at the seams with the want for children, the little fantasies of tucking in small bodies and answering questions and kissing scraped knees. Now that there’s someone on the receiving end, her love is manifest in every conceivable way, from the crinkly-eyed smile as she watched Emily collect twigs for the campfire kindling to the care she takes to wipe her daughter’s sticky fingers after a round of s’mores.

Mulder pokes the logs, which glow orange and radiate lovely heat, as he watches the scene unfold across the campfire. Emily taps Scully on the thigh, too shy and reserved for a girl her age, and asks _please, just one more s’more?_ He can see the gears turning in Scully’s head, weighing the cost of more sugar before bed with the fact that this is technically a vacation. Inevitably, her tendency to fail at denying this girl any happiness wins out and she spears another marshmallow with a stick.

As the fire dies down and the sounds of night begin to invade their little camp, Emily crawls onto Scully’s lap. The first time she’d done it, seeking comfort after a nightmare, Scully had held her awkwardly, assuming that it must have been a remnant from her life with the Sims. Now, she kisses the top of her daughter’s head and holds her as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Mulder leans back in his camping chair and looks at them. His memory has always served him well, but he makes an extra effort to burn this moment into his mind, the sight of Scully and Emily sitting by the fire and talking about the fish they had caught that morning. He doesn’t realize that he’s being spoken to until Emily waves a hand in his line of sight.

“Huh?” He sits up.

“We caught one this big, Mulder!” she exclaims, holding her arms apart as far as they’ll go. He clutches his chest and gasps dramatically.

“Wow! That’s huge!”

“We had to toss it back though, ‘cause it was so so big and there are rules.” she crosses her arms and lets out a long-suffering sigh. Suddenly he feels like he’s giving _Scully the Elder_ a slide presentation from the sheer resemblance in the eyes.

“We can try to catch an even bigger one tomorrow, if you want,” Scully offers. Emily nods enthusiastically. “Maybe you can even teach Mulder how it’s done.”

The ends of Emily’s hair whacks Scully in the face as she turns to look at Mulder across the campfire. “Please, Mulder? I promise the worms aren’t that gross, they just wiggle around a little when you put them on the hook.”

Oh, that’s why she’d asked him the meaning of the word _squeamish_ over dinner. Scully winks at him over Emily’s shoulder.

Well-structured, captivating stories turn into rambling reminiscences about the x-files, which turns into a question and answer session between a four-year-old and two FBI agents regarding the nature of their work.

“Is your job dangerous?” she asks slowly, putting together the pieces with all of the memories of spending impromptu weekends at Maggie’s house.

Scully hesitates. “Sometimes it can be, but Mulder and I are very careful and we always look out for each other.” Mulder nods in agreement and frowns at the too-long silence that follows.

Emily, still in Scully’s lap, turns to face her and sits up on her knees until they are eye-to-eye. She places her hands on Scully’s shoulders, but Mulder can’t tell if the gesture is only for balance.

“My mommy died.” Emily says. Mulder represses a shiver at the serious tone of her usually soft voice, but Scully does not shy away. She lifts a hand to gently stroke her daughter’s cheek and nods.

“I know, sweetie. And I’m sorry.” They say nothing more of this, and though Mulder can see only Scully’s face, he’s convinced that they are sharing a look with one another, an unspoken communication. A promise. Scully won’t leave her. After a few moments, Emily sits back down and Scully rubs her back, looking slightly haunted by the young girl’s intensity. 

The sharp change in the conversation exposes them, making them feel the full extent of the late hour and the chill of the night. Scully picks Emily up and carries her into the tent to change into pajamas while Mulder puts out the last embers of the fire. The tent is plenty big enough for all three of them and Emily worms her way in between Mulder and Scully for warmth. She falls asleep quickly and though Mulder’s eyes are closed, he can hear Scully lean in close to make sure Emily is still breathing before settling down to sleep. It’s a habit she’s clung to since the days of sitting in a San Diego hospital day in and day out, and he wonders if that fear will ever fade.

At some point during the night, as the outside world grows colder, the three travelers unconsciously shuffle closer to one another until Emily lays on Scully’s chest, snuffling peacefully into her mother’s hair. Mulder splays his arms out sideways, as far as the tent will allow them to go, and Scully’s head finds a comfortable place on his shoulder. As he usually does, Mulder wakes after only a short period of sleep, nearly sitting up before he recognizes the soft weight on his torso. Emily clings to her mother, and Scully clings to him. He grins into the darkness because nobody is awake to see it and then settles a hand on Emily’s back gently, content to lay still and think for the rest of the night. To his surprise, the soft sounds of breathing lull him back to sleep as well.

They wake in the morning to Emily sitting on the edge of Scully’s sleeping bag and tracing the new freckles on her face. She opens her eyes to find two identical blue ones looking at her analytically, little brow furrowed in thought. Emily’s tiny finger pokes a spot on Scully’s face and then touches her own cheek, as if trying to copy and paste the freckle onto her skin. Before long, she is tugging Mulder and Scully down to the stream, already telling Mulder the secrets of keeping a fish on a hook.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


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